Shame, shame...

I have been absent quite a bit, and for this I must wholeheartedly apologize. As penance, this has been all the change that has happened to me to get me where I am today. This should completely catch you up.

This last year and a half has been a whirlwind of change. In June of 2011, I left my family and friends on a whim, hoping to change my life. I could no longer stand to see where my life had gone, working hours upon hours for a company that did not care about me, for managers that did not treat their employees with any sort of respect or dignity. I love my friends and family, but things were becoming too confining. My parents, while well intended, had become suffocating. At the age of 24, I should have been more, I should have done more. I couldn't go back to school because work demanded too much of my time. I couldn't change jobs because no one cared that you worked for Staples for 8 years with barely any promotion. Application after application was sent out, but not even one phone call for an interview happened. The only positive that I saw was the time I spent with friends who were able to take me out of that horrible little crevice I had dug myself into. I spent hour after hour wandering the streets of DC, going to shows as much as I could because for that little bit of time, I was happy and not thinking about work or home or failure. But even with this little escape, I understood that I'd have to go back to my world, go back to working excessive hours for next to no pay. I was unhappy to say the least, so I decided that I needed to make a change, and it needed to be dramatic.

In May I decided to visit a very close friend, really a brother. Paul had realized how unhappy I was and knew that I needed to do something different. He convinced me to sign up to work through the temp agency for Amazon. I applied, and didn't really put too much thought towards it. I didn't want to get my hopes up, but hey, anything's worth a shot. After a month or so, I got a call. Not only had I been accepted, I only had a week or two to get everything together. This meant dropping everything I had in Maryland and completely uprooting. This may have been the change I needed! I got the call at work, and I couldn't have been more excited to go into my little office and quickly type up a two-week notice and attach it to a time off request. While quitting work was exciting, the drive home proved I hadn't quite thought this one out... I may not have mentioned the whole applying thing to my father, who I knew was not going to be overly supportive. I was right. Telling him was pretty hard, and he was pretty angry, but after a few days of not talking, he was happy for me. I don't know how much my mom had to talk to him, but she did turn him around. She had known the whole time, so she was ready at a moments notice to catch his anger and shut him up. By the time I was ready to leave, he was finally happy for me. I think he understood how unhappy I had been and that I did need this change. I think it was more because my mom reminded him of how it was when he left home and how they didn't their relationship with me to be like they had with their parents. Whatever it was, I was happy and he looked happy.

Working as a temp agent, you don't get much. I worked hard for everything. I trained on as much as I could as fast as I could. I knew I was on the right path when the manager knew my name. The first few weeks were difficult, and many days, I would drag myself home and barely make it to the couch before passing out. I had already made friends in the area because of the time I had spent up here with Pauly, so weekends were spent going to parties. All was good until one night, one party. I had driven this road plenty of times, several times just that day in fact. On my way home, taking a teenager who had partied a little too hard, my car lost traction. Instead of turning with the road, my car decided to go straight... into a mountainside. While I was sober, my passenger was not. He volunteered to go find somebody to help us and ran off into the night. The area I had crashed in was right across from a little B&B, and all of the visitors were outside, worried and trying to help me. I got out of the car very calmly and asked a man to please find my glasses. Looking down, I was covered in blood apparently from my nose. The rational thing to do at the time was to go to my trunk, grab the towel and a bottle of water and clean up. I had a spare shirt in the car, so I changed into that. The man was very nice and brought me my glasses which were somewhere on the dashboard. They had informed me that the police had already been called and asked if I would like to have the ambulance there as well. I thought I was fine and turned them down. My nose was still bleeding by the time the officers had arrived. They asked me what had happened, and upon inspecting the interior of my car, they saw the blood. Very concerned, they asked who had been injured. I told them I had hit my face on my steering wheel on impact, and my nose was bleeding, explained that I had cleaned up and changed shirts. I was very calm in explaining all of this and this alarmed the fine specimens of law enforcement. Apparently, when in a car crash, all survivors are supposed to be wildly out of control. When questioned about it, I told them it would do none of us any good to be upset, that it was what it was and me being out of control wouldn't help either one of us. This got me my very first breathalizer test! I passed with flying colors. Even though I had left a party, I had not been drinking, nor had I been speeding. I had already called Pauly, who had come back to pick me up. The officers had me get back in the car as they tried to push it to the side of the road. That did very little good as the wheels were bent inward. But it did a fantastic job scarring me for life, hearing the sound, yet again, of metal on asphalt. For the next few days I was sore, and my nights were long as I could get no sleep. I had been fine that night in front of the officers, but when I got home and had time to mellow out, my brain would relive every second of the crash and I could hear the sounds of the car as it skidded over pavement. 

After about a month or two things seemed relatively calm again. I got a car, a little Mazda3 hatchback. My job had improved quite a bit as well. On a whim, I decided to go for a PA position which is much like an assistant manager anywhere else. I didn't do it because I thought I was good, or because I knew what I was doing, but because I hadn't been on an interview in years! I just wanted to see how this company ran and what they were looking for. By all rights, I shouldn't have gotten it. I had only been converted to an Amazonian less than a month prior.  I knew my job enough, but had no idea what a PA actually did. There was so much I didn't know. On top of it all, I had just recently dyed my hair firetruck red. Talk about making an impression... I walked into the interview putting all of my cards out on the table. I was 100% honest with all of my answers, just being myself. All of the questions were work related, not one even mentioning my hair, but I could feel some tension. By the end, one manager asked me if there were any questions I had or anything I would like to add... At this point, I felt like the elephant in the room must be addressed. "Just so you know, if I got the job, my hair would go back to a more acceptable color. I'm not really stuck on being a redhead." With that statement, everyone there let out a sigh of relief. They were comfortable talking to me now, and told me that hair color was superficial, but that they were impressed with my comfort at conforming to a norm. We discussed how it was hard, coming in to a new company, taking up a management position and being young were all hard enough stereotypes to conquer, let alone to do it with bright red hair. I left feeling pretty good about myself, but still without any hope of getting the position.

I waited and waited, but nothing. Until one night, one of the managers from my interview showed up. I was surprised he was going to deliver bad news in person. I expected a formal email explaining that while they appreciated my time, I was not qualified for the job, but that they would coach me in the future. He pulled me into a little office and sat me down. He explained both the positives and negatives of my interview. They liked that I was honest with them, but thought that I may be unapproachable by associates. They liked that I had done a lot in a very little bit of time, but felt that I was still inexperienced. (Not going well at this point) They had gone through quite a few candidates with far more experience, a lot more time and plenty of reason for them to promote... but one thing kept ringing in their heads: "Just so you know, if I got the job, my hair would go back to a more acceptable color. I'm not really stuck on being a redhead." My brutal honesty didn't just extend to my accomplishments at work, it extended to myself. The negatives that they saw in me, I had pointed out myself, and if I was willing to change my hair color, I was most likely willing to change the negatives as well. They were impressed! I got the job!

I changed buildings, changed jobs, changed shifts... It was a lot of change. Things didn't do much changing for a while after that. 

January 4th, 2012, while out with Pauly I got the most random text message I could have possibly gotten. I hadn't spoken to this person in years... In fact, we all joked, but it was entirely possible, he fell off the face of the earth. The text message was only 4 words long, but packed with meaning... "Bring me sushi STAT." For the next month all of my focus was on answering his messages. I was working days, so I'd count down the time until he woke up and started texting me and from there we would text into the wee hours of the morning. I would sleep a few hours and then repeat. We talked about everything, the past, present, and what we wanted the future to be like. We would ask each other questions about likes and dislikes, and our answers were so similar. Damien and I had known each other for years, but because of timing, we never got this deep before. After a few weeks of complete focus on this, we couldn't stand the distance anymore... Damien moved in. On February 4th, I drove down to Florida, completely on a whim, nervous, excited, jittery, and without any particular definition of  our relationship. 

10 months later and I regret nothing. Pauly has left to go to SC, and Damien and I are still together, happier than ever. I miss my friends. I certainly miss my time with Cha. I know we don't get to hang out, and usually, my trips to MD are short leaving very little, if any time for friends. I miss going to concerts and bars in DC. But, life has certainly picked up. Modern age has kept me in the loop, and texting, while not quite the same, has at least kept me in contact. I need to do better, and that will be my focus this year. Two things I would like to work on: My friends need to know I'm still there, and I need to kick my own ass and get back into a less rounded shape. 

This to shall pass...hopefully.

It has been far too long.

The last month for me has been full of life changing experiences and a series of firsts.

Back in mid May I was rushed to the emergency room for extreme back pain, just the simple act of laying down was unbearable. After a lovely dose of Valium and Dilaudid I was admitted for the back pain and an irregular heart beat.

For the next week,  I basically laid in a hospital bed and stayed in a semi drugged state since the back pain would not go away. Eventually I started to loose the ability to use/move my legs and even though this probably TMI, I could no longer pee on my own. First my right leg went. Just the simple act of trying to wiggle my toes took every ounce of concentration I could muster, but eventually that stopped working. Slowly, the same thing started on my left leg. All I could do was lay in bed and watch as the use of my legs seemed to fade away.

Meanwhile, my attending doctor is telling me nothing, she just keeps running blood tests and not telling me what tests were being run or the results. I find out what tests are being run through the people who were taking my blood. But still, no word on results. No answers. Just me laying in bed begging for more pain medicine because the Dilaudid wasn't lasting as long as it should have. Every nurse, nurse tech and physical therapist I came in contact to keeps telling me that it sounds like a pinched nerve.

I'm there 5 days before they even take an MRI of my back. The only thing my attending doctor tells me that its a ruptured disc in my back but she doesn't see why it's causing my symptoms. As I'm hanging off the hospital because it is the only position in which there was no pressure on my back, she talks about how she wanted to send me home. You know, because when a patient has lost the use of both their legs that's when you send them home. Brilliant.

The following day a neurologist comes in to discuss my MRI, he tells me that it is indeed a ruptured disc that he felt I would be able to manage through pain medicine. He even tells me how the first step would be for me to have an Epidural pain medicine done. Fine by me. He says he'll set it up.

About 15 minutes later, he comes back in and states how I'm going to be sent to Washington Hospital Center for a Neurosurgeon consult. I call my family and start crying because I have no idea what the hell is going on. My nurse tells me that my ride will be here in 3 minutes. She helps me to frantically pack all my stuff. Next thing I know 2 people walk in my room wearing flight suits and I find out that I'm being flown to WHC.

After getting another dose of Dilaudid and Valium  I'm taken into a helicopter and flown to DC, over the Washington monument and taken to the ER at WHC. Within a couple hours of being there, I'm not only seen by the Neurosurgeon consult but I finally find out what is wrong with me.

Cauda Equina. An extreme form of a ruptured disc that compresses/cuts off the nerves to the lower half of my body. The doctor tells me that not only am I way passed medicine to manage the situation, but I would be in surgery ASAP. He goes on to explain that since SMH took their sweet time getting me to them, the surgery would be to preserve whatever use and sensation that I had left, there was no guarantee that the damage I had would be reversible.

I'm checked in and wheeled into the Neurosurgery ICU to wait for surgery. I'm told by the nursing team that I would be in surgery first thing in the morning. Sleep does not come easy. It feels like by the time I am able to fall asleep, my nurse wakes me up and its time for surgery.

Surgery goes well the impressively large disc is removed and they decompress the nerves.

I'll spare you the whole hospital stay. But with the Physical Therapists pushing me and me pushing myself, I'm able to walk. Right now I need to use a walker to help me walk, since my legs are still kinda weak and my balance is still pretty shitty. But I am getting better everyday.

I am so thankful to the Universe for sending me to the amazing doctors, nurses and therapists at Washington Hospital Center. To me, if it wasn't for them I don't think I would be able to walk, I think if St. Mary's Hospital had their way, I would be in a wheelchair right now suffering in pain. When I think about how they delayed in getting me the care I needed, I wanna cry and hit someone. But I then I think about the positive side of it, I can walk. 

Lent

40 days of reflection... 2 weeks in and I've made progress. I'm trying to amend those areas in my life that cause pain, and truly look back at where in life I could have done better. Normal people would have reflected months ago in preparation for their New Years resolutions, but I'm just not that kind of person.

I have come to the conclusion that the formal definition of family no longer need apply to me. I've always been caught up in what others perceive family to be, the blood relations that cheer up their life. It doesn't seem to work like that for me and I've always held a little resentment about that. I've decided to give it up. I've decided that family must be what you make of it, and who you decide should make it up.

I'm letting it go, into the ether... I'm not going to hold on to the anger that had bound my family in this web of hatred and bitterness. I will let it be. Life is too short and far too complicated as it is, I should not add to it.

The end.

I've been searching with bruised limbs for ways to get me going

It has been far too long.

This past month has truly been horrible. First at the end of November a close friend (Bill) of mine passed away suddenly. I still don't really wanna believe he's gone. Part of me is still expecting him to make a random facebook rant, or to be in the Staples by me when I go in. Honestly, I think a little piece of me looks for his car in the parking lot. His family had a funeral service for him earlier this month, but it in no way represented who Bill was or what he meant to all of his friends. I think that part was more heartbreaking than actually losing him. But I know that he knows that we all love him and will never forget him.

More recently I've learned that my cousin who was taking care of my Grandmother has pretty much walked out on her, stating that she "was frustrated and tired of being taken advantage of." Yes, because living in my Grandmother's house rent and utility free and letting your children destroy her house in exchange for helping her is sooo horrible. I know that taking care of an elderly family is hard, but the way she went about it was completely cold and heartless. I really don't think that is something that I could ever forgive. My Grandmother, while of course she has her faults but she has ALWAYS taken care of her family and I don't mean just her children. I'm talking about her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Knowing that my Grandmother isn't getting the care that she not only deserves but truly need is emotionally taxing. Its pretty always on my mind. I don't know what to do. I've thought about just putting whatever moving plans that I have on hold and staying in Baltimore to make sure she's taken care of. But I just don't know what to do. I see how my mom is taking this and its just even worse.


I just don't know what to do. Sometimes I feel like its not even worth getting out of bed to going through the motions of the day. Is there really a point to all of this?

The Burden of Back To School

So, tomorrow begins my back to school without kiddos. This should be interesting to say the least... I get to meet the new Assistant Principal and ask very politely for my schedule and list of kids for one school and wonderfully start my binder of school related taskery. Not to mention, this permanently ends my sleeping in. This will suck.

On a brighter note, tomorrow I will update with a few more bands.

An attempt in catching up...

Ok, so I really do suck at this, but not as bad as Charina...

The last few weeks have been chaotic, as I've been house sitting everywhere. The last house, while nice and comfy, had no internet. Actually, worse than none, dial up. I was pretty sure that dial up was extinct, but apparently it lives on. Being that I don't hate my computer, I couldn't possibly allow it to connect in such a barbaric fashion. Unfortunately, that meant that I got very little done via internet over the past 18 days. While I don't have 18 days worth of bands, I will give you two for now and we shall catch up steadily.

Tinted Windows is a band I recently heard while attending a U.S. Royalty show. For any former/current Hanson fans, I'm sure you'll get a tickle out of this. Taylor Hanson has formed a side project away from his brotherly trio. Along with James Iha (Smashing Pumpkins), Adam Schlesinger (Fountains of Wayne & Ivy) as well as Bun E. Carlos (Cheap Trick circa 1974), the band was formed. Recently, Tinted Windows played South by South West and released a self titled album. I can honestly say that while I wasn't a huge Hanson fan, this combination was certainly worth seeing. They have certainly found an interesting combination of members, which has added to their eclectic sound.

Gogol Bordello is a band I heard a few years ago, and was certain had fallen off the face of the earth. This band has been one of the most interesting I have ever listened to. The band has best been described as Euro-gypsy and Russian Indie. This 8 member band is comprised of Eugene Hütz - Vocals, Oren Kaplan - Guitar, Sergey Ryabtsev - Violin, Yury Lemeshev - Accordion, Pamela Racine - Percussion, dance, Elizabeth Sun - Percussion, dance, Thomas "Tommy T" Gobena - Bass,
Pedro Erazo - MC, and Oliver Charles - Drums. They have a fun sound and are definitely great for those days when you just don't want to take it serious anymore. However, this band has also made it a point to persue causes which may not seem to register on the media. Their most recent being the oldest Rom settlement in the world: Sulukule in Istanbul, Turkey. They posted bits and pieces of their trip there, along with photos. Definitely check their site out, as well as listen to their tunes. This is a fun loving band, which is almost certain to lighten the mood (not to mention, throw your friends off on a mixed tape)!

Caught in a wave of Harry Potter

Ok, it's not my fault that nothing was posted yesterday. I actually spent quite a bit of time with a friend of mine, catching up on the Harry Potter movies of previous days. I have not seen my computer since about 2 pm yesterday. I apologize.

For you, there are two new bands to try out!

The first is a group I met a while back at a U.S. Royalty concert. While I've listened to Bear Hands live, I really haven't listened to them since. After a few listens, I actually love their group. From what I remember of this group, they are all very personable and uncommonly honest guys. Bear Hands is a sweet little unsigned foursome from Brooklyn, NY. They travel all over the U.S. and abroad. Their upcoming shows include Boston, MA, Hartford, Ct, and a few spots in the U.K. I really like this band, and can't wait to see them again. Check them out, give them some love!

Another one of the bands I've found lately has been SchulzeMeierLehmann. Sound long? Sound German? You'd be right. But the interesting thing about this group has been that they are at least tri-lingual. They speak at least a degree of English, enough to answer Myspace questions, and even more interesting they can speak spanish as well. In their song Tanzflur, they combined both spanish and german in a very interesting match. The down side to this band is that it's a little hard to get tickets, as they play throughout Germany. So if you're heading over somewhere around Freiburg/Mannheim area, check and see if you can catch a show. They're well worth it.

Enjoy!